Since I was 6, my dad had depression.
After putting the pieces of stories from both my paternal and maternal relatives, it was all because he and my mom were in bad terms before she died. Thus, they never had proper closure and thus, the guilt.
Looking back, I've realized that I had to mature fast to cope with my depresed father and his relatives.
I'd just turned 25 when one day, one of my paternal aunts reprimanded me on why I wasn't present in another relative's funeral. I told her that I was not informed of it( the funeral happened 2 days after my birthday which no one remembered) and it was a work day (friday).
The whole thing led to an argument and I got slapped and unbeknowestly, got scratched on my left cheek. I never noticed that it left a mark until I arrived at my TESOL class later that afternoon and my professor had to set me aside to address it. Of course, I made excuses like it was a scratch I got when I was playing with my cat (I don't own one) but she just gently reminded me that she will listen and help me if I was physically abused.
For some reason, I felt so embarrassed that day and I wanted to disappear because of the shame.
I tried reaching out to my other paternal aunt on Messenger but instead of being understood, I was told to leave the house if I don't like what is happening and send some money to support my dad.
Leave the house and send us money? Is that even right?
I was shocked at the heartlessness of my father's sisters so I made up my mind to leave home. For good.
At midnight with the help of my boyfriend, I packed just a few things and important documents in 3 black garbage bags and left to stay at my friend's house.
They realized that I was gone 3 days later.
Not one of my aunts tried to contact me on the next 2 years that passed by.
However, I would occasionally receive snide remarks and comments on social media from my paternal cousins but never a question on why I left or maybe asking my side of the story.
Because of this, I deduced that I was portrayed as the bad guy by the very people who I once considered family.
Last March 1st, my cousins looked for me at my workplace because they rushed my dad to the hospital.
In the emergency room, my aunt made outbursts telling me they never did me anything wrong and that they helped raised me and that it was only my pride whose at fault at what happened. The nurses were looking at us because of the hysteria and I opted to stay quiet to avoid more drama.
He stayed there until the 12th and I had to process papers to get him discounts and financial aid. My work suffered because of this.
I am well aware that I do not have any legal obligations to them but I still feel anxious everytime my phone rings.
It's June and my paternal aunt demands that I get the reinbursed money from the hospital.
(They live closer to that said hospital and I already gave them instructions how to get it.)
In hindsight, it's very appalling how callous and uncaring a beloved turns into when you don't give them what they demand.
Not everyone can get understanding from their very family.
Sharing the same bloodkin does not matter at all.
I am currently ignoring their calls. But their hurtful words will echo in the halls of my mind forever.
It's okay. I would still get up and be human. Though, they paint me black, there is always beauty in darkness.